Spinning
by phollie
Summary: Natsuki is a distant, detached thing, always unreachable - but in those brief flashes when he smiles, Yuki is struck blind. / Natsuyuki. T for innunendo.


****prompt: 386. blindsided

**.spinning**

****/

Natsuki looks at the world like one would look at boring words printed on a page. He stares, he ruminates, and then he deems it a waste and gives a huffy turn of his head, usually to set his sights out the window or somewhere off in space. He's a distant, detached thing, always unreachable – but in those brief flashes when he smiles, Yuki is struck blind.

But today, Natsuki hasn't smiled once.

They're by the sea. They're always by the sea these days, what with this crazy mission that Haru has thrown them headfirst into, but this time, things are different. Yuki has done everything right, from the uni-knot to hooking the bait to casting the line out onto the water, but for the past twenty minutes, there hasn't been even a blink of action on the end of the fishing pole. Haru is growing uppity in his impatience, saying Yuki's name over and over again and jumping up and down with his hands balled into fists, but that's not the source of Yuki's agitation – no, it all stems from Natsuki right now, who stands at a distance with a look on his face that isn't sour, annoyed, or anything with a name to it. He's simply…looking; staring, rather, and directly at Yuki's profile as if trying to yank a catch out of the beads of nervous sweat forming at Yuki's temple. Natsuki is a constant stressor, an inescapable provider of jumpy nerves and pounding pulses within Yuki's body until he's half-pressed to yank the bait out of the water and whack the other clean across the face with it. Maybe that would give Natsuki's pallid face an expression other than quiet disdain for all that Yuki is in this moment.

"Look, can't you just – " But Yuki doesn't even know what he's trying to ask out of Natsuki at this point, but he has to say something. He has to make up for the incessant noise coming from Haru right now as he spins in circles and whines up at the sky, arms outstretched.

Natsuki is silent for a moment, save for the tiny scoff that makes Yuki's stomach jump. "Thought you said you weren't winging it anymore."

"I'm _not!_"Yuki's hands clench tighter on the fishing pole, as if by holding onto it tighter, he'll reel in the entire ocean and make Natsuki _shut up._ "I just – I'm _trying_, okay, it's…it's just an off day, I don't know."

"Real fishermen don't have off days."

"When did I ever say I was a real fisherman?" Yuki lets out an irate breath and glares down at his whitewashed knuckles. He can still feel Natsuki staring at him, which only makes his blood pressure rise higher and his hands shake harder.

"Well, with that attitude, you'll never reel in a single thing." Natsuki lets out a long-suffering sigh and approaches the edge of the dock where Yuki stands, reaching out a hand. "Here, just let me do it."

"No!" Yuki takes a step away from him, defensive in record time. "It won't be the same if you do it for me. I need to just…do it myself."

"Okay, so you'd rather stand here and accomplish nothing, then?" Natsuki lets out a dry laugh, unsmiling, brows raised. "Hm. Suit yourself."

"You're not helping the situation at all when you act like that!" Yuki can feel his breath becoming short and shallow, and – and oh god, here comes that feeling again, that sensation of the water crashing over him and rising up, up, up –

"Yuki!" Haru's voice rings out like a high bell and cuts through the rushing water in Yuki's ears. "Yuki, look, look!" He's bouncing on his toes and pointing out to the sea, his face flushed pink with excitement. Yuki breaks the surface of the water and finally breathes, looking out to where he's pointing.

It's right then that he feel that first sudden tug on the fishing line, making him jerk forward with a gasp as whatever clings to the bait yanks hard enough to pull him into the water. The water is rippling and splashing, and Natsuki is shouting, "Reel it in, now!" Yuki's head spins as a quick shock of adrenaline rips through his body and makes him shudder, heart pounding in his throat as he frantically tries to reel in the catch before he loses sight of it like all those other times – he refuses to let that happen again, refuses to see that unimpressed look in Natsuki's eyes aimed at him and only him ever again.

But the catch is too heavy, and Yuki's arms are too weak, and he's cursing and sweating when Natsuki rushes behind him to give a helping hand in reeling in the fish. In the midst of all the panicked action, Yuki is alarmed at how warm Natsuki is against his back, how one arm has snaked around his side to get a better hold of the fishing pole that shudders and jerks with each pull of the fish on the lead. Natsuki is gripping Yuki's forearm with his free hand, likely by instinct more than anything else, but Yuki doesn't think he likes how his focus seems to pinpoint only on that contact instead of the task at hand, or how his stomach twists and turns hot when Natsuki's hips dig into the small of his back as he lurches forward and takes control.

For some terrifying reason, Yuki can barely breathe. His grip on the fishing pole goes slack, and it would have slipped from his clammy hands entirely had it not been for Natsuki being _right there_. Yuki's shoulders are painfully tense, and he prays that Natsuki doesn't notice – probably not, what with how absorbed he is in reeling in this damn fish as if nothing else in the world is of importance. Haru is squealing and cheering them both on, although it's a trial to hear him over the heady thrash of Yuki's own heartbeat. The water is rising over his head again.

But in the next moment, victory is claimed when the fish flops out of the water and meets the dock, flopping and gleaming in the sunlight, the silver hook tucked in the corner of its gaping mouth. From behind, Natsuki lets out a stunned little breath, and Yuki makes the mistake of half-turning to look at him. His eyes are bright and round instead of cold and narrow, and he's smiling. Genuinely.

"Wow," Natsuki says, out of breath, "you actually did it."

Yuki is about to point out that Natsuki himself did all the work, really, that _he_ should be the proud one, but he decides against it at the last moment. His tongue feels heavy and dry in his mouth, like it's taking up too much space; he bets if he tried to say anything, he'd flop like the very same fish they just caught, and god knows he'd rather spare himself that embarrassment.

A few feet away, Haru bends down to inspect the fish closer up, eyes sparkling and resting his chin on his hands. After a beat, he reaches out to poke the fish with a curious finger, then looks up at the other two and beams brilliantly. His smile is goofier than Natsuki's, wider and toothier and bursting with delight. Then again, Yuki thinks as he tries to calm his nerves down, Natsuki would probably look pretty silly with a smile that big, wouldn't he? Yeah, probably.

Haru is assigned the fish-carrying duty after packing up, which he takes on without a hint of protest. With the fish draped atop his forearms, he marches proudly ahead of Yuki and Natsuki, who trail a few paces behind him without a word. The air between them is tense, but not bitter. Something in the air has changed from stark to soft, and Yuki doesn't know what to think, but he gets the feeling that it might be a good thing. Maybe. Sort of.

With a glance to the side, he sees that Natsuki is still smiling, just barely. His eyes are set straight ahead of him until they flit to the side and catch Yuki's gaze. They both look away at the same time, but it's not long before Yuki's eyes trail back to Natsuki's profile, which suddenly looks a whole lot softer in the darkening glow of sundown.

He should probably stop looking at him so much. But he can't.


End file.
